The Ultimate CrossOver
by Queen of Anonymity
Summary: When one of Neville's potions goes awry, characters from Pirates of the Caribbean, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter are transported to the land of Tortall. Chapter 5 posted! READ AND REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

This story was co-authored by AsvoriaGranger13 and NameWeAreTooCowardlyToSay. It contains characters from Harry Potter, Artemis Fowl, The Lord of the Rings, The Song of the Lioness Quartet, Pirates of the Caribbean, and any other book or movie that occurs to the marvelous authors. However, you will be notified if we decide to include more stories or characters. (The story was put under the heading of Tamora Pierce because most of the story takes place in Tortall.)

Disclaimer: We own nothing! We don't own Tortall, LotR, PotC, Alanna, Jack, hobbits, Gimli, Harry Potter, or anyone/anything else used in the duration of this story. Practically everything in this story belongs to…well, other people whom compiling a list of would take a really long time. Suffice to say that it belongs to someone else. If we owned everything or anything we used in our story we'd be rich!

(P.S. We also don't own polka dots).

For your convenience, a cast of characters:

Harry Potter (Harry Potter)

Hermione Granger (HP)

Ron Weasley (HP)

Neville Longbottom (HP)

Draco Malfoy (HP)

Professor Severus Snape, Hogwarts Potions Master (HP)

Aragorn (LotR)

Legolas (LotR)

Gimli (LotR)

Merriadoc Brandybuck, AKA Merry(LotR)

Peregrin Took, AKA Pippin (LotR)

Captain Jack Sparrow (PotC)

William Turner (PotC)

Elizabeth Swann (PotC)

Captain Barbossa (PotC)

AnaMaria (PotC)

Alanna of Trebond, currently AKA "Alan" (The Song of the Lioness)

George Cooper, King of Thieves (Song of the Lioness)

Other characters from Tortall

And now, the story…

No, wait. By the way, if you haven't read/watched all or at least most of these books/movies, you may not understand the madness. (Example: why Draco Malfoy always exclaims, "My father will hear about this!"

And NOW, the story…

**The Ultimate Cross-Over**

It was a dreary day in the dungeons of Hogwarts Castle. This was especially so because it was potions class. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville were currently working on a simple Metalmaking Potion under the watchful and rather malevolent eye of Professor Snape. At the table across from them, Draco Malfoy sniggered at their efforts. The potion was designed to turn paper into metal. The students were rather pleased with their work; they had already added the paper, which had for some reason been rather difficult to obtain until Hermione produced a few Muggle books, and the scrap metal had been even more difficult to obtain. It was Neville who saved the day; at the moment when all despaired, he pulled from his robes several circular metal disks with designs on them. "Look what I've got," he announced proudly. "Muggle films. I think they call them deeveedees." Not hearing Hermione's protests about whether they should be added to the potion, he cheerfully dropped them in. A loud noise resounded around the dungeon and everything went black with green stripes and blue polka dots…

Meanwhile, somewhere on an Earth between two others, as can be assumed as it is called Middle Earth, a dwarf named Gimli, an elf named Legolas, two hobbits known as Merry and Pippin, and a human named Aragorn sat by a campfire eating breakfast. "The bacon tastes funny," grumbled Gimli unhappily, and everything went black with green stripes and blue polka dots…

On a ship on the planet Earth with no front, back, left, or right in front of it, located in the Caribbean, someone pathetically sawed away at a fiddle as Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, Commodore Norrington (I wonder what he was doing on a pirate ship?) and Elizabeth Swann sat around a table near the prow of the _Black Pearl_. They were eating a late breakfast. Suddenly, a gasp was heard from the lookout. "It's Barbossa's ship! He's gaining on us!" And then, as the intelligent readers of this FanFic probably suspect, everything went black with green stripes and blue polka dots…

When the strange design cleared up again, our characters were standing on a sort of field. "I told you the bacon tasted funny!" exclaimed the dwarf Gimli. "There seems to be some sort of a misunderstanding," mused Captain Jack Sparrow. Hermione quietly murmured, "It was the muggle DVD's. Didn't you all know that muggle appliances don't go well with magic?"

Upon hearing this, Malfoy turned to Neville. "So it's _your_ fault we're here! My father will hear about this!" Neville's eyes filled with tears. Then, the characters began to notice their surroundings.

On two sides of them, great warhorses charged toward them bearing knights in shining armor (oh well) charged toward them with lances. "Is it the wrath of Sauron?" Aragorn pondered. Though neither Norrington nor Snape had any idea who Sauron was, they decided he couldn't be good and might well be to blame (Snape didn't know about the DVD's) and both muttered, "So it would seem." The two then looked at each other with expressions of extreme horror at saying the same thing as some other random person they had never met. All the characters prepared to meet a painful death. The characters closed their eyes as the horses drew near and…

An unfamiliar voice exclaimed, "Mithros! Who are _you?_"

The end of Chapter 1! It's sort of an introduction to get all the characters to Tortall so that the story can truly begin. It'll all start to seem more like a storyand as if it has some sort of plot, and be funnier in later chapters. This is my first fic, as well as that of my friend NameWeAreTooCowardlyToSay, so please be nice and review! Please? puppy eyes


	2. Chapter 2

'Ello all! It is most likely very, very strange. And, sorry about the horrible lateness --'

Note: This chapter contains a. hose bashing and b. robe bashing. In the story, however they are referred to as a. tights and b. dresses.

Disclaimer: If we owned any of this, we'd be the dictators of the world, and you'd be wearing fluffy bunny suits.

Chapter Two 

Alanna, to most known as Alan, of Trebond's day had started out fairly well. She had woken up, stretched, grumbled at her cat, had a delightful breakfast in which Gary spent the entire time making fun of His Highness' poetry, and was about to go down to the city for a spell, when her knight master had asked for some jousting practice. The young woman had never liked jousting, of which Jon knew perfectly well, not because she wasn't good at it, but simply because everyone else always thought it was so funny to see ickle Alan on a gigantic horse carrying a stick that's ten times longer than he is tall try and knock someone three times his size out of the saddle on an equally large horse carrying an equally large stick. Poor, abused little Alanna. Of course, the prince was in a rather fussy, arrogant sort of mood, and so Alanna decided that trying to argue with him would only mean he would be in a worse mood, and would throw a royal hissy fit. She knew from experience that royal hissy fits were no fun.

So, with resignation, she had geared up, hopped atop her warhorse, and waited at the end of the charging field for the signal. In truth, her situation wasn't terribly bad. It would have been so much worse if she were going against her other friend, Sir Raoul of Goldenlake. He was a giant of a man, good-natured, rather jester-like in tendencies, and the best jouster at court. His opponents were frequently known to go smashing into the practice courts near by, and be stuck with Duke Baird for weeks afterward in a comatose state. Luckily, no one had died. Not that Raoul wasn't rich enough to deal with all of the family members that would try and sue, he just extremely disliked the judge of the Mithran Court.

A horn went blaring off, and she urged her charger into a gallop, for a few seconds enjoying the surging movement of the horse below her. Then she had to snap out of her daydream and lift up the lance, aim for Jon's shield, and….

_**Bam.**_

A rather interesting hole had ripped open in the sky, and out dropped a good deal of people, all of them falling to the ground in a large heap. Through her visor, she had trouble distinguishing individual shapes, but she knew that none of them were moving out of the way. Idiots. Pulling back on the reins, she whispered in her distraught mount's ears, trying to slow him down. Eventually, the horse slowed down to a trot, and Alanna was able to flip up her visor. She saw that Jon was just slowing his horse down, and was trying his best to not trample the people below. With a frown, she circled the unknown group, lance aimed at one of the members.

"Mithros!" She exclaimed, examining the cringing redhead below her lance's aim, "Who are _you_?" The redhead opened one eye, but instantly closed it again, as if wishing he were somewhere else. Next to him a shorter boy around Alanna's age opened his eyes, which were a rather bright green, and blinked up at her.

"You are trespassing on the Palace grounds," said Jon, who had dismounted, "What do you have to say for yourselves?" Internally, Alanna snorted, what kind of question was that? They weren't toddlers.

"Nothing much, only that it is a very nice Palace indeed." Said a man, who had been sitting up until then. His dark hair was in braids, and the locks that were near his face had beads strung in them. His beard was also twisted into braids, and he had what Alanna considered to be a very haphazard appearance. Noticing her gaze, he gave a rather charming grin, before trying to continue. Unfortunately for him, Jon decided that he did not like him at all, which was a shame, as he seemed to be a person that would make a good friend. A little like George, in fact…

"This behavior will not be tolerated, you will be presented in front of the King and Queen of Tortall." One of the only females in the group went incredibly pale and began mumbling to herself, her brow furrowed slightly. Alanna could have sworn she was mumbling about something called a Mugl, but before she could hear more, the entire group erupted with conversation. Jon called the King's Own, they were rounded up, and they marched off to the Throne Room.

"You come too Alan!" Called Jon, and with a sigh, she dismounted and left her charger to a hostler that had instantly appeared out of no where, probably thanks to Stefan. She fumed for a while as she marched up the steps, but then she began to think of all the good things. She didn't have to joust now. But her day had been ruined still. She was sweaty. She was having trouble getting off her gauntlets. She'd have to deal with Jon's father and mother, and though they had their hearts in the right place on most occasions, they still often got on her nerves. Like the fact they didn't allow girls to train to become knights, and because of that, she had been forced to disguise herself as a male for the past… six or seven years? Yes, that sounded about right. With a slight sigh, she adjusted her sweaty blue tunic, dumped her armor into a random servant's patiently waiting arms, and followed the 'prisoners' inside.

Captain Jack Sparrow was having a delightful time. Sure, he'd been captured (again) but these idiots that were his captors didn't know anything about how to keep a prisoner at bay! He didn't even have shackles! So far, he had nicked the following: a small golden statue, a candle stick, a pair of lucky dice, a rather pretty dagger, a shiny rock, someone's ruby ring, and, to his slight disappointment, a lady's handkerchief. He had offered it to AnaMaria, but she sniffed it and said it smelled like stalking and old chamomile, which apparently she didn't like. Deciding that Elizabeth most likely had too many kerchiefs already, he stuffed it in his pocket anyway and continued looking around for something to steal.

That night, a Delia Stalker would sob when he discovered that her handkerchief was gone.

Draco Malfoy was having a mental breakdown, but because he was so marvelous, no one noticed. Actually, it was probably because no one was paying attention to him, but this is Draco Malfoy we're talking about, and Draco Malfoy thinks the world is centered around him. What was currently disturbing him, you ask? Well, one has to admit, seeing an entire population of males walk around in tights is very traumatizing. If the Slytherin had been paying attention, he would have seen that his peers were also very disturbed, and had their eyes shut. The blonde had his vision focused on the ground however, where all he could see were feet. Feet were perfectly fine to see, as they were all wearing boots, shoes, or 100 galleon leather loafers from Y&V with a delightful fringe.

Apparently he had slowed down a slight bit in his musing of feet, and a tight-clad guard behind him gave him a rather rough shove. Scowling, Malfoy muttered six words under his breath.

"My father will hear about this."

Unlike most of his companions, who were either A. incredibly disturbed, B. completely oblivious, C. plotting, D. having a delightful time stealing things, or E. mumbling about bacon; Commodore Norrington was simply having a rotten day, and wondering why five of his new companions were wearing dresses. The one with the gigantic nose was mostly very quiet, mumbling to himself under his breath, and his dress-thing billowing rather dramatically behind him. It was apparently only a bathrobe or something, but it was definitely the strangest garment he had ever seen.

The procession stopped in front of a large pair of double doors, and the little boy behind them straightened himself, dumped his armor on a brightly dressed servant, and then entered the room with the man that had addressed them when they first entered this very strange world. ((Try saying that ten times fast!)) They waited for a little while, and then the men in tights led them inside. It was a nice enough room as rooms went, it looked similar to the governor's foyer, only with two rather splendid thrones on a center platform. On the platform sat a man and a woman, each with a very shiny crown upon their brow. The woman looked very tired and sickly, as if she had only just recovered from an ailment, and the man's face seemed to have a permanent look of worry on it.

"We found these people on the jousting courts. Mother, Father, they disrupted our match!" Whined the richly dressed young man beside the boy. The man, apparently his father, frowned. "Is this true? Did you disrupt the Prince and his squire's jousting match?" He asked, directing the comment at Commodore Norrington (he was probably the most respectably dressed out of the entire lot). "I am afraid so sir, but it was entirely an accident." He said apologetically, but the whiney Prince interrupted him. "An accident! How could it be an accident? You fell from the sky right into the court!" He exclaimed, outrage in his voice. "Exactly you troglodyte." Said a very agitated and very bored voice from somewhere behind the Commodore.

_How stupid are these people?_ Thought one Hermione Granger to herself as they were presented to two people she assumed were the king and queen. The man in the powdered wig tried to be polite and talk to them, but the idiot interrupted. Vexation, jet lag, hunger and her patience and acceptance of the fact that she was surrounded by idiots snapped finally kicked in, and she couldn't help but comment.

"Exactly you troglodyte."

The entire room went quiet, and swiveled around to look at her. The pretty-boy prince's mouth was hanging open, and the king looked as though his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. The boy silently clapped, while the men in tights started to back away. Her faithful friends were sniggering by her side, as were most everyone else in the group. That is, except for the man with the pointy ears and the tragic-hero looking pirate ('He has an ugly hair cut' thought Draco) next to him, who were blinking rapidly.

"What's a troglodyte?" They asked in union, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Troglodyte: A primitive form of man that was incredibly thick." They said a quiet 'Ooooh', and then swiveled back around.

"Wait, did you just call me _stupid?_" The prince said, and Hermione took a deep breath and began to list all of the goblin rebellions since 1784 in her head. "Yes, I just called you stupid." There were gasps from the men in tights and the royals, but some more sniggering from her companions. The king then gathered himself.

"Insulting the royal family is a criminal offense, young lady. I suggest you apologize." Hermione just rolled her eyes, still completely fed up with these people. "I suggest you stop acting like a pompous, suppressive monarch who wears tights, and forces his entire kingdom to wear tights. And why hasn't she said anything?" She demanded, pointing at the queen. "Is she just a figurehead you show off? Do you not value your wife's opinion? Do you not care that she most likely has a higher brain capacity than you do?" Hermione was now beginning to vent all of her anger at just about everything at these people.

"And what's with the servants? Or are they slaves? Do they get proper wages for cleaning this place and feeding you? Do they get holidays so that they can actually spend time with their family? Or do you lock them up here, and feel no ounce of compassion to other human beings?" Her voice was a snarl, and everyone was staring at her. The red-headed boy (the squire?) by the prince was silently cheering and was doing a sort of happy dance.

"And the monarchy! Total control over one people so that they have no rights, no freedom, and are not allowed the freedom of speech? Oh no, no elections for us, we have a-" She said a very rude word that made many people gasp, except, of course, the cheering boy, who was now giggling insanely into his shirt sleeve. "That says the queen can't say a thing, even though her title says she should help rule the country, we don't get decent wages, don't get treated properly, and we have to wear tights!" She was now red in the face, and before she could continue, Snape interrupted.

"Miss Granger, I think it would be in the best interest of this group if you shut your large mouth before we got killed." Said the professor, and Hermione opened her mouth to say something. "I'll start taking points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger!" He hissed, and Ron spoke this time. "You can't do that! We're not even at school!" Snape just glared. "Watch me." Everyone was silent for a while, until one of the blonde short people with no shoes that Hermione had not noticed spoke very loudly and suddenly. "And we'll eat mushrooms!" They stared at him for a while, and he looked apologetically to the tall man with the beard. "Sorry Strider." He said, and his blonde friend piped up. "Pip's stomach is directly connected to his brain, and I would say it's about time for second breakfast." Pip scoffed at his friend. "You're one to talk Merry!" Then an argument erupted about who ate the most, and probably would have continued if Strider hadn't hushed them quickly.

"Daddy!" Whined the prince, "Make them take the people in dresses to the dungeons!" There were many indignant and outraged noises among the Hogwarts students, and Ron snarled out a comment about the prince's grandmother over Malfoy's shouts of 'They're not dresses!" Another short person waved around an axe no one had noticed before, and snarled something about fighting their way out before Strider calmed him down too. On the thrones the king looked outraged and the queen had passed out soon after the troglodyte comment.

"Take them to the dungeon! Jonathan, please inform your friends and their squires to attend a meeting here in exactly one hour. Also inform your uncle."

Author Note Time!

Sorry about the delay, again. Another apology that all of the characters didn't get used. Somewhere in there Elizabeth was screaming parlay and AnaMaria and Jack were doing something. Maybe Rock, Paper, Scissors, not sure. But I had to include Merry and Pippin, they always feel forgotten in a crowd. As an extra, the conversation before Pip's mushroom comment:

Pippin: **-sigh- **We're unnoticed again, Merry. It's always like this.

Merry: I know Pip. But we'll do something fun right afterwards, like going on a quest, or playing Whack the Orc!

Pippin: Yes! We shall play Whack the Orc! I call blue mallet!

Merry: Fine, I get green mallet!

Pippin: But where'll we get the orcs?

Merry: We can use… Um…. I don't know. But we can eat snacks too. Like 'taters.

Pippin: And we'll eat mushrooms!

Yup. Until next time folks,

-NameWeAreTooCowardlyToSay and AsvoriaGranger13

P.S. Review all you like. We roast marshmallows on any flames with AsvoriaGranger13's gremlin army :3 But go ahead and send them, we love eating marshmallows.


	3. Chapter 3

I was surprised to get so many awesome reviews—thanks everyone who reviewed! People who didn't review: SHAME ON YOU!

Unfortunately, as NameWeAreTooCowardlyToSay has not read the Circle of Magic, and it might be difficult to incorporate new characters into the sorry excuse of a plotline, we will probably not add characters from the Circle of Magic into the story.

Disclaimer: Is it so difficult to understand that we own no more than we owned in the previous two chapters? It's not like I'm going to randomly inherit PotC! If I owned ANYTHING I'm writing about here I wouldn't be writing it here, would I? I'd either be filming PotC or publishing my own LotR books! (Which I'm not, by the way. Just in case you haven't noticed.) Furthermore, I'd be really, really rich and I can assure you that I'm NOT. Besides, PotC is owned by Gore Verbinski. I'm not Gore Verbinski. Simple logic tells you that, therefore, I DO NOT own PotC. Same for everything else I'm writing about here, except for my own identity (AsvoriaGranger13; I took the responsibility of writing the declaimer for this chapter). Actually, I don't really even own that, as nearly every part of it came from a book that I did NOT write. Anyway, just believe me when I say that I do not own PotC, LotR, Tortall, HP, or really anything else.

And now: THE STORY…

Two rather large men in the ugly clothing led the party below the castle. _What jerks, _thought Malfoy disdainfully. _And probably even less intelligent than Crabbe and Goyle._ Which reminded him that he had no personal bodyguard type people. He'd have to hire some. But he had no money! Father would have to hear about this… His thoughts were brought back to what was happening when he was rudely forced into what appeared to be… a dungeon cell! "My father will hear about this!" Malfoy screeched at the top of his lungs. It didn't do much good. The guards in ugly clothing left. Neville _(the idiot who got us here in the first place_, thought Malfoy crossly) sniffed. The weird-looking pirate fellow with the long, beaded hair handed him a frilly, lacy, silk lady's handkerchief and backed away hurriedly. Suddenly, a high-pitched scream was heard from Ron. Malfoy was sure that he would be deaf before the scream stopped and resolved to make sure that as soon as they were back home Ron was sent to Azkaban for inflicting physical pain on another student. His father was very influential; it would be manageable. "Spiders," squeaked Weasel. "A spider! Save me! I hate spiders!" Panic was visible on his ugly face as he hurriedly backed away from a nearly microscopic dot on the floor, which Hermione stepped on. Ron gasped in relief and fell over.

After ridding himself of the handkerchief and watching the little red-haired, freckled boy with the phobia of spiders throw a strange little fit, Captain Jack Sparrow looked about the prison in disinterest. There didn't appear to be anything to steal. He decided that it was time to introduce himself. "'Ello, all. Might I introduce meself? Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service. Captain of the ship the _Black Pearl._ And you are…?"

The curly-haired girl who had insulted the royal family so well spoke first. "Hermione Granger," she said politely. I'm a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is Harry Potter­­," she said, indicating the boy in black robes (well, one of them) with the messy, dark hair and the scar on his forehead. She introduced the freckled, red-haired, arachnophobic boy as Ron Weasley and the tall, long-nosed, greasy-haired man as "Professor Severus Snape, the Potions Master." Jack wondered what sorts of potions he mixed; apparently nothing that prevented greasy hair. Did he mix _magic_ potions? The name of the school indicated that… Oh well. Maybe he could pull a rabbit out of a hat or something and get them out of there. Though of course, his hat was back on the _Pearl_… he'd have to, er, _commandeer_ another one.

Hermione spoke again, this time indicating the boy Jack had given the handkerchief to. "This is Neville Longbottom, another student," she said. Indicating the final youngster in a dress, she said, "_This_ is Draco Malfoy, better known as "ferret." When Jack blinked, she smiled and explained, "Due to his rudeness he was once turned into a ferret and bounced down the hall." _A handy trick_, Jack thought. Perhaps magic existed after all. It was no more far-fetched than that nonsense with Barbossa and that Aztec gold. "How _dare_ you insult me!" Screeched the Draco boy. "My father will hear about this!"

Hermione sighed and pulled what appeared to be a small wooden rod from the sleeve of her dress. Pointing it at the pale boy, she cried, _"Scourgify!"_ The boy gasped as what appeared to be soap suds filled his mouth. He spat on the cell floor. Jack decided that he'd have to get hold of one of those sticks. Wands, he supposed. A _very_ handy trick. There were some people he'd like to try that on himself.

At this time, the short, bearded man who seemed to have a fascination with bacon cleared his throat. "Gimli, son of Gloin," he grunted. Eying the taller men, he said, "What? Haven't you ever seen a dwarf before?" When Jack shook his head, Gimli said, "Well. This here-he pointed at the tall fellow with pointy ears- is Legolas. An elf, and the one responsible for cooking the foul bacon that landed us in this pit, Sauron burn it!" (The elf hunched his shoulders and looked at the ground. He looked downright miserable, and a tear trickled down his face to hang off the edge of his nose. His eyes were fixed on the floor.) Jack frowned; he'd thought elves were short and wore too much green and only came out of the North Pole at Christmas. Hermione gasped; she seemed excited. "Really? An elf? Do you have equal rights? When Legolas nodded silently, she squealed excitedly, "An _elf_! In some places elves have equal rights! There's hope for the wizarding world at last! We must inform the other members of S.P.E.W!" Jack decided that maybe she wasn't from a school, but from a mental institute of some sort. Oh well. The dwarf now introduced the tall man with normal ears as Aragorn, also known as Strider. He also pointed to the two small fellows, saying, "They're Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took. They're hobbits. And by the way, we're all from Middle Earth. I'm assuming you all aren't given your confusion at the word "hobbit." Of course, we're probably just hallucinating due to the awful bacon-cooking skills of the brainless elf!" He glared at the "brainless elf." Legolas began to sob.

Jack realized that he had a headache. However, he remained cheerful. "That," He said grandly, pointing at Will, "Is young Will Turner, a blacksmith and pirate. He recently married Elizabeth Swann"-he pointed at Elizabeth- "The daughter of the governor of Port Royal. That's in the Caribbean, by the way. Commodore Norrington"-he nodded to the Commodore- "Of the Royal Navy."

They all blinked at each other for a while, each trying to figure out the names of everyone else, why they were there, and how they'd gotten there in the first place. Suddenly, footsteps were heard at the door to the cell and the jingle of keys was heard. "The council of knights wants to see you again," the prince's squire said curtly. "If it were up to the prince, he'd hang the lot of you, but the other knights want to see you first." Jack frowned. Why did _everywhere_ he went have the hanging penalty? Deciding that there was nothing to do about it at the moment, he waited until the squire unlocked the door and turned around, apparently expecting to be followed, and put the keys in his pocket before eying the hall for something to steal. As they were led through the castle, he managed to accumulate several small purses filled with various amounts, which joined the small amount of coin already in his pocket, three small knives, and the keys to the dungeon.

As Hermione followed the red-headed boy down the hall with everyone else, she planned what to say to the council. She would probably have to be polite. What a pity. She also reviewed a list of curses that would be useful in a bind. Lately, she had been taking fewer classes and, as a result, had had some extra time. Besides practicing some spells on pillows in the Common Room, she had invented some of her own (under the watchful eye of Professor McGonagall) that she hadn't yet been able to test. One of these was the Mass Leg Locker Curse, capable of performing the Leg-Locker Curse on several people at once. She wasn't sure how many people she could use it on at one time, but had calculated that it should work on up to thirty or so people depending on the skill of the caster.

The redhead led them through a set of doors into a large room. A number of men and boys sat around a rectangular table. The queen, king, and prince sat there as well. As the boy led them to the front of the room, the prince noticed Hermione and made a rude sign. Hermione ignored him. "Well," remarked the King, "Which of you wants to explain what is going on here?"

When it became clear that no one else was going to speak up, Jack decided to say something. "Well, first of all," he drawled, "It's a very nice castle, as I've said before, and we thank you very much for your hospitality. Now, if you'll excuse us, we'll be going." He made for the exit, but armed guards stepped in front of the door. As they carried particularly large swords, Jack decided to try to talk his way out. He opened his mouth, but was elbowed in the ribs by Commodore Norrington, who he looked at indignantly. Oh, well, now he'd lost his train of thought. He'd let the Commodore speak, even though he hadn't been very polite. Bloody officials.

Commodore Norrington watched the pirate head toward the exit and be stopped by the guards. Then, the idiot opened his mouth, presumably to make another smart remark. Though a year ago, he would have been glad to see Sparrow forcibly killed, he and the pirate had become friends, of a sort. He elbowed Sparrow in the ribs and cleared his throat. "Well," he said, it's an odd story, to be sure. We were eating breakfast on the deck of the _Black Pearl_, the ship captained by Mister Sparrow"—he nodded to Jack—"when suddenly, everything vanished and we were on the jousting field." Listening to his own words, he almost winced. It sounded dreadful. It was probably even less convincing considering the condition of his wig. Some of the fine curls were starting to come undone; it was a cheap wig. After all, he'd been _eating breakfast_ on a _pirate ship_.

His fears were confirmed. One of the younger knights at the table stroked the hilt of his sword and the prince stuck out his tongue with a smile that said he knew that he had won. The king asked gruffly, "Anyone else have an explanation?"

When no one answered, he nodded to the guards, who closed in on the group with manacles ready. "Wait," said one of the short, hairy-footed fellows suddenly. "I want to speak."

Merry watched silently as the guards closed in on the group. He closed his eyes, praying to the Hobbit Mushroom Gods for salvation. (Yes, they do exist. You just haven't heard of the Hobbit Mushroom Gods because hobbits don't usually tell people about them.) He closed his eyes, wondering how Frodo's quest was going and if he'd ever know what had become of his friends, when he had a sudden inspiration. "Wait," he said suddenly. His voice was squeaky. He swallowed and continued in a stronger voice. "I want to speak."

The room was completely silent. Almost, that is. The Man with the strange hair was whispering something. Merry was barely able to hear: "Please…don't do anything…_stupid._" Merry didn't know if what he was about to do classified as stupid, but it probably did.

"I and my friends, Pippin, Legolas, Gimli, and Aragon were eating breakfast," he began. "It was only First Breakfast, mind you. We were eating bacon that Legolas cooked. The only thing was, it tasted sort of funny. Gimli, who's the smartest and wisest…well, except for Gandalf, but he isn't here…said that it was probably the bacon that got us here." Legolas hung his head in shame. Gimli made frantic arm motions, but Merry didn't notice. "Anyway, suddenly, everything went dark except for all these green stripes and blue polka dots. The next thing we knew, we were on that grassy lawn area and you two were charging at us." He glared fiercely at the prince and his squire and resolved never to give them any mushrooms. If he ever ate any again; it was looking rather bleak at the moment.

He continued sadly, "And now Frodo's all alone back home in MiddleEarth. Except for Gandalf, that is, but… you know… he comes and goes, like wizards do. Oh, and there's poor Sam, but just the three of them. And they have to take that awful ring all the way to the Pit of Doom and drop it in to try to destroy it. And the Pit of Doom'll be guarded by orcs..." Put that way, it seemed even bleaker than the prospect of ever having mushrooms again. Merry wondered what would become of his friends and their quest. "So, anyway," he concluded, "That's how we got here. And I'm afraid that we'll never get back home until it's too late and we've failed and Sauron ahs prevailed." In a smaller voice, he added miserably, "Please, we need your help. We just want to go home."

By the time Merry had finished his story, nearly everyone in the room felt at least a bit sorry for the group, probably mistaking the hobbits for poor little children wrenched violently from their parents. Even several of the knights at the table had stopped fingering their weapons. Lady Delia, who had snuck into the room while the Commodore had been speaking, was apparently very sentimental; she was crying freely. Tears left tracks down her face. Her nose was running. As she no longer had a handkerchief, she wiped it on her frilly, pink sleeve.

Legolas and Will were also apparently sentimental; they wept side by side. Their sobbing was surely audible to the entire castle and was in perfect sync. Jack Sparrow, who was completely unaffected by the sentimentality (to his great relief), noticed that they looked remarkably alike.

Draco Malfoy didn't notice this. He was bored. AnaMaria looked bored as well.

The redheaded squire looked thoughtful.

Luckily for our friends, Hermione had somehow refrained from speaking. She contented herself with mentally reviewing her Transfiguration notes and wondering what she should turn the prince into if it came to that.

The other hobbit—Pippin— was starting to look hopeful. He fingered a mushroom-shaped pendant.The room was mostly silent for several full minutes as our characters fully understood each other at last. The exceptions were Prince Jonathon, who was angry at the amount of attention the visitors from other planets or wherever were getting and was also extremely bored, Malfoy, who was in perfect agreement with the prince except for the bit about the other planet—no, scratch that last few words, Malfoy completely agreed that everyone except Snape and him, especially Harry, was from another planet—, and Jack, who thought that his new comrades really ought to get over this bout of sentimentality before he got bored and did something rash. Like nicking that expensive-looking, gold-edged wallet sticking out of the prince's pocket. (The prince was near his new location by the door.) _Oh, never mind, too late now._

"Well," Hermione said briskly, "Is that settled? You'll help us?" The King nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes, of course," he said. But first there's the question of how you all got there. "Oh, that's easy," exclaimed Hermione. "Neville added some books and muggle DVDs—metal disks with, er, a story, sort of, on them—to a potion we were making. The muggle items caused a chemical and magical reaction, which…" seeing the blank stares coming from nearly everyone in the room, she concluded, "Which reacted in a rather extreme sense and brought us here." The King looked confused but nodded and ordered the red-headed boy, who had still looked rather thoughtful, "Squire Alan, take our guests to the dining hall. They seem to be in need of some food. And," he added, eying the motley crew from MiddleEarth, "See to it that they receive bacon. _And_ mushrooms." The hobbits began to dance a jig.

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The end of Chapter 3! Please review. We would also like it if you'd suggest whose point of view you want in the next chapters. (You can suggest several.)

Until Chapter 4,

Asvoria Granger the Thirteenth and

This NameWeAreTooCowardlyToSay

Once again…

**_PLEASE REVIEW! _**


	4. Chapter 4

'Ello all! That's right, we're back in business baby! Sorry for the disgusting wait, we had quite a few problems as we went along, including an exploding computer, and the lack of muse after being deprived of a computer for a little over three months. So, with out further ado, CHAPTER FOUR: In Which Lots of Bacon is Consumed, People get Turned Into Jelly, and All the Bad Things Happen to the Comic Relief

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The meeting ended, and the group split up. Malfoy, Harry, Ron and Neville went with Alanna to the mess hall while Jon disappeared to go try and write bad poetry to make himself feel better. Captain Jack, Commodore Norrington, Will, Snape, Legolas, Gimli, Merry and Pippin were to follow the king's general and eat with other important nobles of the kingdom, but on the way there, Merry, Pippin, and Gimli managed to take a wrong turn near the portrait of a fat man. Elizabeth, Ana Maria and Hermione were dragged and sent to be torture-have lunch with Lady Delia of Eldorne and her fluttery minions. As each sat down to their respective lunch, or not sit down to lunch in our three short heroes' case, chaos ensued.

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"I had a dream once that the Dursleys died of ipecac poisoning." Said the green-eyed boy, Harry was it, with a slightly disturbing smile as he idly ate a slice of bacon. His jittery, shy friend looked slightly worried, and then spoke.

"Um, Harry, you can't _get_ ipecac poisoning. That's what ipecac's for, to get rid of poison." He said it very carefully, as though he was afraid Harry would explode at the mention of the flaw in his logic. Instead, however, he sighed and his smile turned into a wistful expression.

"I know. That's how I realized I was dreaming and woke up feeling depressed." He sighed again, and began to eat his potatoes. The ridiculously tall, gangly boy shook his head as he swallowed a biscuit whole. "Too bad. All the good people seem to die. Such a shame." He ate two more pieces of bacon in a single bite, before taking a swig of juice. Alanna was now staring at them in disbelief, her food left untouched on her plate. Harry shrugged, the nervous one squirmed, and she realized her mouth was hanging open.

Quickly she closed it and with a forced smile picked up a biscuit and began to nibble, trying to remain calm as she came to the conclusion that the two boys sitting across from her were sociopaths.

"Well," she said finally, "I hope um... Do you have these sort of dreams a lot?" She asked, chuckling nervously. The blonde boy spoke before anyone else got the chance.

"Oh yes, Pothead here's a real seer," He sneered, a rude smirk on his face. "Knows how everyone's just going to drop dead like flies around him, deranged little Nigel." He looked down in disgust at his plate, and then pushed it away with one finger. The red head turned on him with a look of anger, and snarled at him through his food while brandishing his fork dangerously close to the blonde's face. "Shove it, Ferret."

'Ferret''s grey eyes narrowed, and he hissed back at him. "I could wish worse things on you, traitorous Weasel-spawn of a-" The red head, Harry, and Alanna all stood up at the same time before the other could finish his sentence. Harry and his friend looked like they wanted to pound his face in, and Alanna quickly put herself between them and their target.

"C'mon now boys, let's play nice, yeah? Why don't we all sit down and finish our food, alright?" The tall boy looked murderous, but Harry gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ron, Malfoy isn't worth it." He said, and N-N, oh, she could almost remember his name! Oh damn, it wasn't worth it anymore... Well, the last boy nodded behind him, so Ron slowly sat down. Malfoy looked mildly pleased with himself, and ate a potato before realizing that he had rejected them earlier.

"Anyway!" She said, trying to be the positive person in the gathering. However, before she caused yet another argument, relief flooded through her as a cheerful voice boomed through the mess hall.

"Alan! There you are! How are you, Prince's Squire of Despairing Size?" Said a very familiar, cheerful voice of her friend and knight master's cousin, Sir Gareth the Younger of Naxen. He leaned on an empty chair back while Alanna scowled outwardly at him, while inside she thanked the Goddess he had come so soon.

"Stop calling me that and sit down." She said, and picked up a biscuit, motioning as though to throw it at him. Gary, however, took notice of her company.

"Oh! These are the people that interrupted your jousting match. Jon's feeling mildly guilty now, just so you know, my cousin sometimes gets like that." He said, directing the last bit towards the other four. "Oh! By the way, I am Sir Gareth the Younger of Naxen, pleased to meet your acquaintance." He said, and gave a polite bow. The gesture was wasted on the boys; Malfoy looked unimpressed, and the other three looked disturbed and awkward. However, Gary was still Gary, and just grinned at them.

"But you can call me Gary." None of them seemed to change, but Ron decided to speak. "Um... Hi." He said, still looking rather awkward. Gary just kept up his grin, and sat down, stealing one of Alanna's strips of bacon as he did. "I'm Ron Weasley." Ron managed after a silence of watching the prince's cousin eat bacon. "Harry Potter." Harry said, brushing his bangs down as he did so. "N-Neville Longbottom..." Neville squeaked, and hid his face as he sipped juice. "Draco Malfoy." Draco drawled in his way, and began to trace words on the table with his fork, which, if Alanna read right, were 'Die Potter Die', and 'Up Yours Weasley'.

Alanna coughed and looked away from the table to Gary, trying to think of a conversation topic as he went through everything on her plate. However, Gary was, once again, a savior.

"So, what do you boys do for fun?" He asked, leaning back in his chair. Neville shifted in his seat, and mumbled "Plants are cool. I guess..." However, the other three had a sudden gleam in their eyes, and said as one:

"Quidditch."

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"Gimli, where are we?" Merry said as they walked down the same corridor for what felt like the umpteenth time. Their taller companion grunted, and tugged on his beard, a frown on his face.

"I'm not sure. I believe we've passed the portrait of that fat man already, but it could be hunger playing tricks on my mind." He boomed, and the hobbits sighed. Indeed, hunger was over taking them quickly, they hadn't eaten since Gimli had first commented on the bacon. Which was at breakfast, and as far as Merry could tell, it seemed high time for third breakfast, otherwise known as brunch.

"What wouldn't I give for some nice, juicy, _bacon_ right about now." He moaned, clutching his stomach. Pippin nodded his head vigorously, and began to list all of the foods that he would consume if only they were there.

"Some cinnamon apples would be nice, and o' course, pancakes. With a mushroom omelet or two on the side, and a nice mug of hot tea." The Took sighed, and Merry felt like crying. Yes, a mushroom omelet sounded perfect right now. Oh, he could practically smell it!

"And half a roasted pig." Grunted Gimli, a slightly maniacal grin on his face, "Y'can never beat freshly roasted pig…." Both hobbits and the dwarf then sighed simultaneously and turned around the corner, going past, yet again, the portrait of the fat man.

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"Oh, it's so _wonderful_ to have new people to talk to." Gushed a very pretty though gaudily dressed-up woman, fluttering a fan in front of her face faster than one would have thought possible. The other women cooed their agreement, and the pirate thought she would be sick. Nobles, really. Wore too much face paint, smelled too much of sickly flowers, and fainted at the sight of blood. They could barely walk by themselves, the lackadaisical bums!

However, AnaMaria need not give a response, as Elizabeth did all the talking. The brunette was very good at this, this whole 'social' thing, and she was proud to say that she had gone from one of them to a conniving wench of her own. They learned so fast….

"Do you like to watch the knights' joust?" Suddenly she realized that the green-eyed one was talking to her. "Uh…." She began, but Elizabeth saved her once again.

"Oh, she loves to watch them! She's quiet you see, darling AnaMaria." The pirate went a little red and looked away, a slight scowl on her face. It was bad enough they thought she was insane for wearing men's clothes, and thus tried to eat her alive whenever possible and she didn't need anymore insane dribbling from the little hens, thank you oh so much.

"And how about you?" Green Eyes asked the frizzy, brown-haired girl, Herm-something, and the girl's eyes narrowed.

"Oh yes," she said, clasping her hands together, "I ADORE watching a gaggle of moronic men hit each other with bits of wood. Highlights my day just as much as watching MOLD GROW." Her sentence ended in a snarl, and the ladies gave little appalled gasps, and fluttered their fans some more, tittering amongst themselves. AnaMaria gave a quiet snort and looked at the girl, who was watching them with disgust and slight pity.

"They should be doing something useful with their lives," She heard the girl say as she shook her frizzy head, "Besides being ignorant tarts and letting everyone else do their thinking for them." AnaMaria chuckled at this, and the girl looked at her.

"Do you think they're incredibly hopeless too?" She asked, contempt in her voce. AnaMaria nodded, and offered her hand. The girl shook it and introduced herself.

"Hermione Granger, and you're AnaMaria, right?" She was slightly surprised that she actually remembered her name, but nodded. "What's with your friend?" Granger asked, glancing at Swann as she chattered with the others.

"She's good at blending in I suppose." AnaMaria said with a shrug, picking up a little biscuit and biting into it. "I doubt she likes them much. But I'm not sure, she's insane, that one." Granger frowned and watched the others over the rim of her dainty little tea cup, draining it. Finally, she set it down and returned to stare at AnaMaria. The dark woman stared right back at her, and Frizz, as she had decided to call her, spoke.

"What exactly do you _do_, AnaMaria? I didn't catch it when everyone was talking earlier." She shrugged nonchalantly and considered throwing the little butter knife at someone just to see what would happen. With a sigh she decided against it, and spoke.

"This and that, mostly sailing. Wonderful thing, the sea…." She trailed off, and glanced out the window, where the only thing you could see was a rose garden full of little song birds and a gardener or two. Far, far away from the ocean. Well, at least she assumed she was; she wasn't actually quite sure as to her current location. She knew she was in a place called Tortall, in a place called Corus, but beyond that, she could only guess.

As she let her thoughts drift out the window to the Caribbean, Hermione Granger was very alert to what was going on. When AnaMaria had said 'sailing' she wasn't exactly sure if she could trust her all the way, but she was one of the only females not-from-this-world, and so far the only one worth putting any effort in conversation wise. Elizabeth, Delia, Cythera, and a few others kept twittering on, and when it became apparent that AnaMaria would not be returning any time soon, Hermione dug through the pockets of her robe and produced a travel-size copy of Hogwarts, A History. It came in very handy when on long, unexpected trips, or when finished with a test with twenty minutes to spare. She flicked it open, and began to read as the minutes ticked by.

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"Let's try this door." Merry said hopefully, and pushed against a small (large to him) door with his shoulder. It swung open, and sunlight slapped them all in the face, making them squint. They staggered forward, and saw that they weren't anywhere near where one could get food, but were instead in a rose garden full of little song birds, and no gardeners. Pippin let out a wail and threw himself to the ground, landing with a painful thud in the delightfully green grass.

"We're never gonna eat!" He sobbed, and curled into a little ball. "We're going to starve in some random garden full of flowers I can't name! SAAAAAAAAM!" He screamed, and began to rock while his companions watched on in pity.

"It's alright Pip." Merry said, sitting on his knees next to the upset hobbit. "We're going to get through this. Just chin up." He patted his younger friend on the shoulder, and Pippin looked at him through his fingers. "Really?" He asked, sniffing. Pippin always had idolized Merriadoc, and did whatever he said, because he just seemed like a smart hobbit with good ideas about fun. Merry nodded with an encouraging smile, and the other blonde let go of his knees.

"Okay. I'll try to keep going."

While the other two had been comforting each other, Gimli had found a door in the garden wall and pulled it open. What lay beyond was a stretch of grass that rolled down a hill and into a dense forest. The dwarf grinned, and turned around to face the hobbits.

"On your feet men!" He barked, and Merry and Pippin scrambled to do so, giving twin awkward salutes. "There are times when you have to take manners into your own hands," He said, and reached behind him. The hobbits knew exactly what he was going to do. Gimli had unbuckled his axe, and swung it around, stomping the end into the ground. "This is one of those times."

Both of the hobbits thought that Gimli's axe was, as the young hobbits like themselves say, _cool._ It was a good deal bigger than anything that they could possibly carry, and in fact, was heavier than anything the Big People carried. And all that size wasn't just for show. They had seen its purpose demonstrated on quite a few occasions, lopping off orc heads like snipping dandelions. And, it helped that Gimli knew how to use it very well.

"We," He said as he brandished his gargantuan axe, "Are going to go hunting."

The two hobbits stared at him.

"Hunting?" Pippin asked, tipping his head to the side. "Don't we usually get Legolas to do that for us?" Gimli scowled and thumped his axe against the ground. "The elf's not here and we are. We're going to find us a meal if it's the last thing we do!" And knowing the amount of trouble the three got into separately, combined, his statement may just well come true.

However, his speech just excited the two hobbits, and they grinned, happy that they would finally be getting something to eat.

"Wait," Merry said as they neared the tree-line, "How are we going to hunt with an axe and two swords?"

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In one of the many overly-decorated rooms of the palace, Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Merkwood with a total high score of over 389 orcs killed in the last fort night, was admittedly bored. He did his best to act as princely as possible, as was his duty to his family, his people, and Aragorn, but he had spent so much time adventuring and shooting things that such things as stately luncheons were now very mundane things. What wouldn't he give to have a nice orc or ten to run through right now, or a nice staircase to slide down using a shield, and even, dare he say it? A fan girl or two to run screaming in terror from.

He turned to his left to comment about this to Gimli, but when he looked down, there was no hilarious little dwarf with the big axe. There was only empty space.

"Gimli?"

He called, and looked around. He looked behind him. Nope, no Gimli. Behind Aragorn. Again, no Gimli. He looked around people, under people, under the table, but no where was his violent friend to be found.

"Gimli!" The blonde elf was becoming hysterical, and pounced on Aragorn, who was being the wonderful heir to the throne that he was.

"ESTEL!" Legolas wailed, clinging to his friend. The Gondor king-to-be was nearly toppled from his chair, and many of the human nobles were scooting away with disturbed looks on their faces.

"I CAN'T FIND GIMLI!" He sort of sobbed, and Aragorn clutched the table to keep upright. "What?" He managed to get out, his face turning red from lack of oxygen.

"Gimli! Nowhere! Can't find him!" Estel managed to push him off at this, and looked around, frowning. "You're right, Legolas. I don't see him anywhere. Or Merry and Pippin for that matter…." He was quickly drowned out by another scream from Legolas.

"MERRY AND PIPPIN ARE GONE TOO? DO YOU REALIZE WHAT THIS MEANS? WE HAVE NO COMIC RELIEF! WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO WITH OUT THE COMIC RELIEF?"

Legolas had crumpled into a heap on the floor and was tugging on his gorgeous, shining blonde locks.

"That's it!" He said, and leaped to his feet. "I'm going to find them!" He snatched up his bow and quiver from where they were leaning against the wall, and slammed his foot into the double doors, ripping them off their hinges and sending them sailing down the hall.

"I'M COMING GIMLI!" He screeched, and then sprinted away, causing many court ladies to faint as he passed.

"That," said Commodore Norrington, "Was one of the strangest things I have ever seen."

His companions agreed heartily and Aragorn apologized profusely for his behavior, and a buzz returned to the table as most of the men began to talk again. All save for one large-nosed, sallow-skinned, greasy-haired potions teacher that still had childhood issues to work out.

Severus Snape glared at everyone at the table in his usual fashion as the talk picked up, and wished for the thousandth time that he had just become a hermit or a professional grumpy person, or some other equally easier job. He hated people, so what was he doing surrounded by them? This would not be the last time he doubted his reasoning and sanity that day.

"Um, Professor Snape?" Oh Merlin no. He hated that voice. Hated it with the passion of a thousand boiling pits in Tartarus and the frosty intensity of Antartica. He gritted his teeth and looked up to see The Boy Who Pissed Him Off More Than Any Other standing tentatively in the door way, a vexingly innocent look on his face.

"What is it Potter?" He said in his best, most venomous, acid-dripping, poison-spewing, 'I hate you with the passion of a thousand boiling pits in Tartarus and the frosty intensity of Antarctica voice. The green-eyed monstrosity looked like he was going to have an apoplexy from fright.

"M-Malfoy and Ron turned hexed each other until they became plasma-like substances stuck to the mess hall floor." He said, and shifted uncomfortably.

Snape snorted. Wasn't that like children, going and disrupting his perfectly fine self-hatred/pity moment. He knew that the thing expected him to fix it, and so with a peeved sigh he stood up and swooped out of the room, a scowl on his face and Potter at his heels.

"Does he remind anyone else of a large, rabid bat?"

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Alanna, who though she was to be called the Lioness in the future, was hiding behind an over turned table and quaking. The event had started out simple enough. The three boys had started talking about a game, that, if she could tell right, that's main purpose was to kill other people using heavy flying objects and to chuck heads through hoops. However, in the course they had gone from simple teasing and singing of strange songs about slithering and kings to screaming curses and jinxes at each other, causing limbs to pop off and tentacles to grow and tongues to grow fur and try to strangle the body they were attached to. She had faced down Ysandir, countless savage raiders, and killed gods knew how many people, but this, this was in a world unto itself. It was vile, it seemed impossible, it was frightening, and at the same it was hard to not watch.

Finally, after ten minutes, the fight seemed to have died down, and she worked up the nerve to peek over the table edge.

Two puddles of strangely colored substances sat on the floor, with a furry tongue and a tentacle trying to reach far enough to hit the other, or what was left to hit. Neville sat on a chair with a slightly upset look on his face as he stopped up the flow of a bloody nose. Harry was leaning against the wall with a very resigned look on his face, and he slowly got to his feet.

"I guess I'll go get Snape to fix them." He said, and started towards the door. "Why not Hermione?" Neville said anxiously, and Harry gave him a, 'You're crazy, right?' look.

"Hermione wouldn't go with in ten feet of Malfoy." Neville sort of nodded, but didn't look happy about it as he watched Harry trot out the door.

"Are they going to be alright?" Alanna asked, gripping the table so hard her knuckles were white. Neville nodded, and took away his robes to check his nose. "Yeah. They're not that bad. It'd be much worse if they had splinched themselves or done something like Full Body Bind someone into something sharp." He winced as the thought of it, and Alanna sort of shuffled out from the cover of the table and beside him.

"I can fix your nose." She said helpfully, and though the boy looked worried, he let her touch his nose and her purple Gift flow over it. He winced as the cartilage righted itself, but smiled at her when the blood stopped.

"Thanks man."

Harry came back soon after that with a rather obnoxious looking man who looked at the once-teenage boys on the floor and took out a wand from a pocket in his black robes. Waving it agitatedly, the puddles slowly morphed back into Ron and Malfoy, who both looked very upset, but glad to be human again. The greasy-haired man snapped at Ron and just frowned at Malfoy, and then, turning sharply on his heal, billowed from the room.

"Sooo…" Ron said, breaking the eerie silence of the mess hall. "Where'd that Naxen bloke run off to?"

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Merry, Pippin and Gimli were now starved, out in the middle of nowhere, and without a nice pipe to ease their troubles.

After they had realized you cannot, in fact, hunt very well with an axe, two swords, a dwarf and two hobbits, they had collapsed under the nearest tree and bemoaned their ill fortune. Why did everyone hate the comic relief? Was it their fault they were so amusing and undoubtedly handsome hobbits? And dwarf, of course. No, it wasn't, so there was no use for the world to be all jealous. If it felt THAT ugly it could just become a clown. No one expected clowns to be pretty, or all that funny. In fact, clowns were rather disturbing. So, scratch that, Merry thought, he didn't want the world to become a clown. Then he'd always have to leave the night light on.

Anyway, so the three companions sat, sad, hungry and tired in the middle of no where until a manic cry reached their pointy (and nicely rounded in Gimli's case) ears.

"GIMLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! And Merry and Pippin, of course."

A blonde elfin prince they knew particularly well leaped down from a tree to their right and attacked Gimli, though Merry soon realized he was in fact hugging him the same way his mother did when he had been gone a particularly long while.

"I was so worried about you!" He sobbed, and Gimli looked disgusted, and tried to push Legolas off of him. "I didn't see you anywhere, and there was no one to talk to, and it wasn't FUN. I MISSED YOU SO MUCH GIMLI! And Merry and Pippin, of course." Gimli son of Gloin son of Oin sighed and patted the traumatized elf's back in his most sympathetic fashion, while rolling his eyes at the two hobbits.

"Yes elf, we missed you too." He grunted, and Legolas finally stopped sobbing. "Now we can go inside and have a tea party and talk about killing orcs!" He chirped, and, in that annoying, graceful, seemed-impossible-way, leaped to his feet, taking Gimli with him. "Come along friends!" He said cheerfully, and began skipping off into the woods.

"Elves," Said Pippin wisely, "Are very cool, but very, very neurotic." Merry gave Pippin a peculiar look.

"I didn't know you knew what neurotic meant Pip!"

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Le end of Chapter Four!

I know, we haven't updated in like, ever, but we've started on a writing spree, so hopefully that will make up for it. Any comments, etc. are welcome!

(translation: review or we'll send the fangirls after you.)

Your bonny, though insane, friends,

- Queen of Anonymity and GuestheName (formerly NameWeAreTooCowardlyToSay)


	5. Chapter 5

Hey! If we have any of our original readers from before our long absence…

YOU ROCK!

We WILL update on a more regular basis from now on. Seriously.

Oh, and don't forget that the former NameWeAreTooCowardlyToSay has changed her name to GuessTheName.

AND NOW, BACK TO THE STORY…

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Norrington paced the halls, missing the feeling of a ship rocking beneath him. Someone cleared their throat behind him; Norrington spun around, reaching for the sword that should be on his hip. He had left his in his room at the suggestion of the astonishingly frank, red-headed squire.

"Hello," said the whiny prince curtly. Norrington sighed; Jon—that was his name—didn't seem to be in any better temper than when they had first arrived. "Dad says that there's a ball tonight. Tons of people coming. He wants you to come."

Norrington nodded. "Very well. I will be there soon."

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Meanwhile, Alanna—err, _Alan_ of Trebond—was having a blast. At the moment, she was chatting happily to Hermione, a pastime she had enjoyed more and more in the past few weeks. She couldn't let down her guard too much, though—it was starting to become **very** hard not to forget that she was masquerading as a boy.

"I seriously don't understand how you put up with it," Hermione was saying impatiently.

"What?"

"With everyone else beating you up like that! And also being smaller than everyone else."

"I'm a perfectly normal size for a gi…for a guy who's short."

Hermione smiled. "That's rather redundant, really, isn't it? Oh, well, I guess there's nothing really that we can do about it. Anyway, I had really better be going. Norrington said he had something to talk to me about." She stood, stretching, and opened the door. Alanna followed her out of the rooms Hermione was staying in—along with several other of the female newcomers—and bid her farewell.

Alanna headed to her room, annoyed by the fact that she would have to don the—in her opinion, hideous—outfit Jon had ordered her to. Just because she was his squire didn't mean that she had to share his fashion sense!

She entered her room and had just closed the door when she heard an odd noise. Whirling around, she was just in time to see George Cooper crawl from underneath her bed. "How did you fit under there?" She asked curiously. "Thief's secret," her semi-lover grunted. "It's dusty under there. Honestly, you might have more consideration for poor fellows who have to hide from nosy palace servants trying to clean. Will you believe where they swept all that mud you dragged in from swordfighting or whatnot? Under the bed, that's where! Likely ruining my nice clothes for the ball!"

Alanna glanced at his tan breeches and green-and-gold tunic. It didn't look ruined. In fact, George seemingly had taken care to look as presentable as a noble. Come to think of it, he was almost unrecognizable. And…what in Mithros's name was that around his eyes? Was it…oh Mithros, NO. It WAS what she'd seen around the eyes of the pirate. Jack. It was really hot...not that she had just thought that. Oh no, of course not. It was…odd. Yes. Odd.

"Um…I see you've met the visitors, then?" she asked tentatively.

George winked. "Oh, just the one. He even gave me this…eyeliner. We're friends now. Interesting way of meeting someone, it was. We…er…swapped coins. Both tried to pick each other's pockets at the same time. And both succeeded. We probably only noticed because, after we took the coins and put them in our own pockets, we realized that there were far fewer than there should have been with the new…additions."

"Great," Alanna said flatly. "More pickpockets."

George laughed. "Pickpocket? Aye. But all the same, for tonight, I'm a snobby, rich, noble. Prince Jon's second cousin's wife's nephew's best friend's uncle. Three times removed."

Alanna sighed. "Why don't I introduce you to the rest of them?" she suggested. George agreed readily.

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"Let me get this straight. I can't steal a SINGLE shilling? I mean, I've got no problem not stealing the nobles…I never was much of a kidnapper…but SERIOUSLY!" exclaimed Jack. So bloody unfair.

At that point, Alanna entered Norrington's room, where the rest of Miscellaneous Visitors Inc. were seated in places of varying comfort. With Alanna was George. Jack smiled absently at his new friend. For a newbie at the fine art of eyeliner, he had actually managed to apply it fairly well. Certainly well enough for George to get some fangirls of his own. Jack hadn't mentioned that side of fame.

"This is George Cooper," Alanna said quietly. "Don't mention his name. He's the King of Thieves." A few of the people in ugly dresses clenched their wands tighter. George grinned. Alanna continued, "Tonight he's going by the name…" she turned to him questioningly. "Jorge de Valiant of Dragon's Hill." Alanna blinked at him. "What the…"

George grinned. "If anyone's smart enough to figure it out, then I'd like to find out who's so intelligent." Alanna rolled her eyes, fighting her concern for George's safety. He could take care of himself, after all. Suddenly Ron screamed and about half the adult population of the room hit the floor with their hands over their ears. "WHAT THE BLOODY _HELL_?"

"Bigfoot," Luna Lovegood said solemnly, "In the guise of popular singer Justin Timerlake, says that he's bringing sexy back, but really he's trying to resurrect King Tut's ex-girlfriend."

"I don't feel well," said one Ginny Weasely.

"Hi," George Weasely said. "I'm George."

"No you're not," George Cooper said indignantly, "I am!"

"I'm George _Weasely._"

"Oh. Well that's a different matter then."

"Did you realize," Fred burst in excitedly, "that there's a hole in the fabric of Time behind the school? It's freaking awesome! Oh, and Hermione, we brought Crookshanks."

"Crooky!" Hermione cooed. Jack Sparrow edged farther away from her and the fluffy orange…thing? It sure wasn't a cat.

And the ball was in two hours.

Chapter five over! Chapter Six will probably be up fairly soon. Thank you everyone who hasn't forgotten this story! And remember…

REVIEW! Thank you Spy in Training for telling us whose point of view you want, and anyone else who told us!

So…REVIEW!

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stupid pun...does anyone else understand it? JorgeGeorge? Dragon's like shiny things? Not that tricky, is it?


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